


The mercury’s rising

by Bebrenx



Category: Clean Bandit (Band), Years & Years (Band)
Genre: All porn involving these two is going to have feelings lbr, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5132696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebrenx/pseuds/Bebrenx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olly had promised to keep <i>that</i> dress to give him a private viewing later on. So Neil’s not best pleased when he sees the dress in question flying into the crowd at the end of the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The mercury’s rising

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own. Basically I saw [this](https://instagram.com/p/9heSQ_g1Cy/?taken-by=sophsie1) picture and this fic happened.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr [here](http://bebrenx.tumblr.com/).

Neil doesn’t accost Olly as soon as he’s off stage. He heads back leisurely, then when he makes it into the crammed dressing room, he moves back by the even smaller wardrobe area and bides his time.

He watches as Olly bounds in, clearly still hyped up, takes a few pictures with Sophie, laughing and shaking his head as she loudly recounts his antics back to him.

After enough people have complimented them on the show, most beginning to filter out the room, Emre starts scrubbing half-heartedly at his face paint, the black and white making him resemble a panda.

Neil watches him amusedly for a moment, before returning his attention to Olly, who has suddenly realised Neil isn’t there. He looks around, brow furrowed.

As is always the case with the pair of them, his eyes find Neil’s almost immediately – they’re weirdly like magnets at times – and he grins, makes his way over quickly. He’s still just got his boxers on and that thin pair of tights, giving his legs an unnatural but fascinating sheen.

“Hello,” he’s all coy smile and heavy-lidded eyes, even more piercing than usual since he’s still got those pale, luminescent contacts in.

“You. In here,” Neil says shortly, and gestures with his head to the wardrobe door which he’s just propped open with one hand.

Olly’s eyebrows raise and his smile unfurls into a grin, lit with anticipation, throwing a quick glance back at the room – still fairly bustling but in the process of clearing out and nobody’s paying them much mind at the moment.

He steps in front of Neil, deliberately brushing up against him, and Neil can feel how hot he is – his own thin t-shirt the only barrier between skin on skin contact.

He follows Olly in and shuts the door firmly behind them, the single light bulb hanging above the only dim light in the very small space.

“Did you enjoy it?” Olly asks immediately, making to hook his hands round Neil’s neck, but Neil stops him by catching them in his own, moving them back by Olly’s sides.

Olly’s face is as open as ever when it falls sharply, curling into confusion, as his eyes flick over Neil’s own expression for a clue as to why he’s not being allowed to touch.

“Didn’t enjoy the end,” Neil replies, tone perfunctory as he raises an eyebrow, waiting for Olly to catch on, but his mouth just sets into an uncertain line.

“You’re not going to start telling me you’re the only one who can see me without my clothes on, are you?” Olly’s voice is unsure, teetering on frustrated.

Neil enjoys other people looking at Olly, appreciating how gorgeous he is – as long as they don’t try and take it any further, which Olly knows all too well. He waves a hand dismissively.

“Do you remember the conversation we had earlier? About something I wanted you to do for me?” he’s a little bit suggestive, lets his eyes trail up the expanse of bare skin on show.

Olly still looks nonplussed.

“What did you call it – a birthday treat?” he adds, looks Olly up and down again, emphasising his distinct lack of clothing.

The moment of realisation is nearly comical – how Olly’s whole face seems to jump, eyebrows climbing and mouth falling open. “Oh, the dress.”

His expression scrunches up into a very endearing grimace, as he tries to gauge how serious Neil is. “I’m sorry, I got a bit carried away.”

“A bit.” Neil is unimpressed.

Olly smiles, like he always does when Neil sulks, and this time Neil doesn’t stop him when Olly winds his arms around his neck. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah, you will, but first of all you’re going to learn a lesson about forgetfulness.”

Olly visibly shivers at the lower tone Neil’s voice slips into, and he bites his lip, waiting.

“Luckily, you haven’t taken this off,” Neil murmurs, touching his thumb to Olly’s bottom lip, which is still a vivid red, already smeared slightly, making it look as if he’s either been licking over them a lot, or been kissed thoroughly.

“Thought you’d like that,” Olly says quietly, eyes still on Neil.

“You know I like that,” he corrects as he presses in a little, runs his thumb back and forth before increasing the pressure, eyes caught on the red track he leaves.

He can feel Olly’s breath quickening against his thumb, and lets it drag the lip down a bit, smudging the colour down his chin a little.

“You look good,” he whispers, voice caught in his throat at the sight of his boy looking so debauched before they’ve even done anything.

And all those people seeing him like that, how beautiful he looks, but only Neil getting to see him like this afterwards. And feel the flutter of his eyelashes when he touches a finger to the delicate skin under his eye, the grip of his fingers on Neil’s shoulder just from this one touch on his lip, the tremble of his body as he tries not to move.

Only Neil gets that.

“But because you forgot to keep your end of the deal, you’re not getting fucked tonight and you’re not fucking me either,” he says decisively, aware this is also a bit of a punishment for himself, but sticking to his guns anyway.

Olly frowns up at him and he looks more vulnerable like this – for a second Neil almost forgets it’s all makeup and wants to brush across the angry looking scrape on his forehead, press a tender kiss to the purpling bruise on his cheekbone.

“You’re still going to look after me, because it’s my birthday,” he says quietly but pointedly, and he thinks Olly doesn’t even realise he’s licking his lips, his tongue catching the pad of Neil’s thumb where it rests on his chin.

“Yeah,” is all Olly offers, voice breathy.

“On your knees.”

He hasn’t even finished the sentence before Olly moves, dropping to the floor, ridiculously graceful even when he’s a little bit pissed.

His hands go to Neil’s belt, still watching Neil, but he shakes his head and Olly stops immediately.

He undoes it himself quickly, lets it drop to the floor with a clunk and undoes his trousers, shucks them down halfway.

He nearly smiles at the put out huff he gets for that – Olly loves taking his time and undoing Neil’s trousers himself, often dipping his clever fingers in teasingly first, rubbing a hand along the hard line of his cock before finally peeling his boxer briefs and trousers down in one go.

Neil doesn’t give him long to dwell on that though, and reaches forward to cup his hand round the back of Olly’s head, fingers brushing the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“Make me want to take these off then,” he says intently, gestures at his boxer briefs casually, even though he’s already clearly straining against them.

Olly’s eyes narrow and his mouth curls upwards at the sense of a challenge, and doesn’t hesitate to lean in and mouth over the thin material, the intense wet heat making Neil’s eyes flutter and sink his teeth into his lip to quieten a groan.

Olly’s a tease even now, flattening his tongue briefly to drag the cotton against his cock, before moving back and flickering just the slightest touch against him, still so good, but not nearly enough.

“Olly,” he grits out warningly, looks down where Olly is – fucking hell, still staring up at him unwaveringly, his mouth a filthy smirk as he pauses to lick his lips slowly and deliberately. He can already see the faint marks of makeup on his briefs from where Olly’s mouth has been.

“Don’t you want to take those off so I have better access?” Olly asks temptingly, lifts a hand up to give Neil an encouraging squeeze at just the right pressure to have him leaning back against the wall.

“Yeah, get them off then,” Neil agrees, hips lifting just enough to allow Olly to slide the briefs down quickly, stepping out and kicking them slightly to one side.

It’s fucking cold in the wardrobe but Neil feels like he’s burning up, unable to tear his gaze away from the captivating line of Olly’s collar bone, sharp blade of his shoulders, and slight curve of his arm muscle, where he’s bracing himself against the floor now.

“C’mon then baby,” he can’t resist guiding his cock to Olly’s mouth, bumping it against that lush red encouragingly. It says a lot for how into it Olly is – or how bad he feels about not keeping his promise on saving the dress for afterwards – that he doesn’t even often up a snarky comment, but lets his mouth drop open invitingly.

“Oh, you are a good boy,” he murmurs, pleased, and then can’t say anything else for a moment, inhaling sharply as he slips into Olly’s mouth properly.

He’s deliberately sloppy with it, Neil can tell, not caring about getting makeup everywhere, enjoying getting messy. It’s all a bit much, and made worse by the fact Olly’s clearly focused on making it good too, hand curling around Neil’s balls as he goes slower over the head, letting his tongue drag.

“Getting a bit messy there sweetheart,” Neil manages to keep his voice firm, though his insides feel like they’re on fire and his knees could give way any moment. “That desperate for it, are you?”

Olly moans, a deep noise that almost sounds like it’s torn from him, and Neil feels it vibrate around his cock – forgets himself for a moment as his hips snap forehead and Olly’s eyes widen, though he copes with the unexpected movement well.

He cups the side of Olly’s face, runs his thumb along his cheekbone in apology, and Olly’s eyes are soft when they meet his, though he pulls off briefly, a hand coming up to rub along Neil’s cock in the meantime.

“You were not going to apologise for that,” he grins, a terrible, naughty grin, that has Neil wanting to pin him against the wall and fuck him right there. “You know I encourage fucking my mouth, even more today since it’s your birthday,” Olly adds, though Neil’s only half registering the words, eyes stuck on the slick shine of Olly’s lips, the red around it a livid smudge just making him look even more of a mess.

“You’re clearly not trying hard enough at making it up to me if you’re still giving me lip,” Neil rolls his eyes, though Olly can see the telltale fond smile as a horrid giveaway. Olly mimes zipping his lips up and throwing away a non-existent key, which nearly has Neil snorting, and then he looks down at Neil’s cock and back up at his face suddenly, eyes widening in concern.

He gestures at his lips and then Neil’s cock in mock horror, as if his mouth is actually zipped shut so he can’t finish the job and Neil does snort then, at his utter ridiculousness even now.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I can lend you a hand,” he says helpfully, guiding his cock back to Olly’s mouth, letting it brush against his chin, before Olly grins and opens his mouth easily, eyes fluttering shut this time as he gets back to it.

It’s a sensory overload – the addictive soft, wetness of Olly’s mouth coupled with his skilful hands on Neil’s balls, one moving to brush along his inner thigh, and then the sight itself. He keeps nearly shutting his eyes only to force them open again to try and imprint it into his memory – wants every piece of this moment as vivid as it can be for as long as possible.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise that Olly in a short, short dress and heels would do it for him, but seeing him next to naked, looking bruised with makeup smeared, is a far, far hotter sight than anything Neil would have contemplated.

He’s tempted to buy Olly a lipstick and make him put it on just so he can ruin it all over again.

Olly looks a little ethereal at the best of times, with the delicate bone structure, fine features and those blue, blue eyes, but like this, it’s like he’s otherworldly.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he manages to groan, feels it’s important to remind Olly when it grips at his heart like this, takes over any other thought in his mind.

And it’s when Olly’s eyes blink open at him, all hazy promise, but also with that underlying adoration, that Neil comes.

As he pants heavily, trying to get his breath back, he’s struck with a vague concern about Olly’s schedule, hopes he doesn’t have any singing commitments for the next couple of days. He can’t really remember much in his current state other than back to a few minutes ago; fucking Olly’s mouth and feeling him swallow around him, with that lazy, adept talent that has heat coiling in Neil’s stomach.

Olly’s always a bit hoarse after they do this, wears it like a badge of honour, often enjoys calling up Neil unexpectedly if they’re apart the next day, just so he can murmur down the phone with that fucked-out rough voice, that always,  _always_ ends up with Neil’s hand down his trousers as he frantically gets himself off again, often still a little raw from the night before, enjoying it even more because of it.

His thighs feel tight from tensing against the wardrobe door, and he straightens out a little, feeling wobbly, glances down at Olly and thinks for a fleeting second he could quite possibly go again right now at the sight.

The makeup – he still doesn’t know if it’s lipstick and fake blood or face paint, doesn’t really care – is everywhere, and Olly’s chin is slick, lips flushed and wet, the whole picture obscene in how blatant it is as to what he’s just been doing. His legs are sprawled beneath him now, and he’s hard in his pants, but he doesn’t even look like it’s registering.

 Olly takes a moment, before his gaze lifts to Neil and he gives him a shy smile that makes Neil’s heart thud in his chest, before his eyes drop down again, smile going filthy.

“I really have made a mess,” he says proudly, climbing to his feet shakily, but taking Neil’s cock in a sure grip, making him instantly torn between bucking into it and shying away, feeling too sensitive.

Neil follows his eyes to where Olly’s makeup has actually gone _everywhere_ and laughs, almost feels embarrassed at the triumphant surge in his chest at the clear marks linking them together. He’s always not so secretly thrilled when something shows they’re a couple – that fluttering of possessiveness sated, like when Olly does something so simple as slipping a hand into Neil’s while they’re at a club, or wears a jumper of his when they’re apart.

“Mmm, a good mess though,” he smiles, brings his hands up to hold Olly’s face, Olly’s arms sliding low around his waist.

“Did that make up for it a little?” he asks knowingly, a small smile creeping up.

Neil pauses to kiss across his face, along all the places where the makeup has marred his skin with pretend contusions and cuts, something tense inside him settling when Olly’s face smoothes out into pleased indulgence. “It was a nice start.”

“I was going to keep it a secret, but since I actually forgot to keep the dress, I think it’s only fair I tell you I have something better back at the hotel,” Olly says teasingly.

Neil pauses to consider the implications, moves back a little to try and assess Olly’s expression, which is still a smile filled with promise, not giving much else away.

“You better not be teasing me,” he says lowly, drifting a hand down to cup Olly over his boxer briefs.

He whines, rolls his body up to get more pressure, before he shakes his head a little desperately. “Not teasing. It’s – ah fuck,” Neil twists his hand, enjoying Olly visibly trying to compose himself. “It’s a negligee, like proper silk, even shorter than the Union Jack dress,” he says in a rush, still rubbing up against Neil’s hand, which has stilled.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, waiting until Olly’s eyes open again to meet his. “Really?”

Olly nods, looks just the slightest bit shy for the most fleeting of seconds before Neil quietens any doubts he may have had, with a fierce, bruising kiss – tongue dipping in to chase his own taste out of Olly’s mouth.

“We should get back to the hotel,” he decides when they part, voice absolutely wrecked.

Olly grins, but leans in closer to press his body flush against Neil’s, asks quietly: “Could you take care of this first?”

He debates it – on the one hand he’s supposed to be teaching Olly a lesson about forgetfulness and making him walk across to the hotel, though not far, won’t allow him to forget in too much of a hurry. Particularly with that very obvious erection and currently not much on to disguise it. On the other, he’s been so good so far, and has a present far beyond anything Neil could’ve dreamt up waiting a few minutes away, so he’s feeling a little generous.

Plus, it’s officially his birthday now, and he loves getting Olly off. So he shouldn’t really be denying himself that, he reasons.

He flips them around suddenly, so Olly’s pressed up against the door, mouths his way up the lovely long column of his throat, until he reaches his ear. “Think there’s still anyone out there?” he asks dangerously quiet, feels Olly arch his back as he lets out a soft moan at the thought. “Want them to know what we’re doing?”

Olly smiles at that, can’t resist saying, “think it’s pretty obvious what we’re doing in here, as it always is” and Neil nips at his ear for the cheek.

“They might have an idea, but you could make it crystal clear for them, couldn’t you baby? Get a little loud, let them know just how desperate you get for it, for me.”

Olly’s moan is quiet, but his hands are scrabbling at the back of Neil’s shirt, trying to get under it to claw him closer.

“I mean I’m sure everyone knows the sex is great, but do they know how prettily you beg when I get a couple of fingers in you, that you spread your legs anytime I ask you?”

“Neil,” Olly’s panting harshly now, and Neil takes a bit of pity on him, starts working him over his briefs again – but not enough to take them off completely just yet.

“Everyone knows what lovely legs you have now, don’t they?” he murmurs, rests a hand on Olly’s knee and slides it up, the smoothness of the tights making it slip up higher than initially intended. “But they don’t see how you can get them up and around me, so easy,” he pauses as Olly hooks one leg around Neil to pull him closer. “Yeah, like that.”

“How I can bend you right over with them wrapped around me, and you don’t even bat an eyelid,” he enjoys this new position, getting a hand right back to sneak in a squeeze of Olly’s arse, before dragging his thumb down, rubbing suggestively.

“Are you keeping these for further use?” he diverts from getting Olly even more riled up for a second, tugs at the waistband of the tights.

Olly takes a second to process the question, before he shakes his head. “No, couldn’t give a fuck.”

“Good,” Neil says, before tapping at them. “I’m giving you a couple of seconds to get them off, or I’m going to rip them off.”

“Oh,” Olly shivers, hastily peels them down, laddering them in his hurry and then getting his foot caught for a second and swaying precariously, before Neil steadies him on the hips.

As soon as they’re off, Neil presses Olly back against the wall, takes advantage of his surprise to slip his hand into his boxer briefs. He spreads the pre-come along Olly’s dick, already so ready for it, enjoys the sight of Olly tilting his head back against the door with a thud and leans in to kiss his neck.

“Come on baby, let’s hear you,” he whispers, Olly moaning again, higher-pitched, a little desperate.

Olly loves dirty talk, it gets him writhing and flustered like nothing else, and Neil is always captivated by the way it makes his cheeks flush and draws out these short, hurt noises.

If anything’s sure to get him over the edge it’s that, and it’s no different today – in fact it’s quicker, since he’s already all wound up from the show.

Neil leans right in to whisper a few more descriptions of just what he wants to do to Olly when they get back to the hotel, directly into his ear, just for Olly to hear.

He murmurs the virtues of buying Olly a lipstick to wear on special occasions, and considers whether he’ll smear it over his face before getting those painted lips around his cock. This has Olly scraping his nails down Neil’s back and he comes then, one last “fuck, Neil” exhaled on a short breath.

Neil keeps him pressed against the door, can feel Olly’s weight slumping against him, and he gives his cock a gentle squeeze before withdrawing his hand.

Olly just watches him, looking all too kissable, and Neil can’t help himself going in for a soft, intimate one, brushing his lips over Olly’s.

“Hold on,” he says, leaning back slowly to allow Olly to right himself against the door, before leaning down to wipe his hand against the discarded tights.

“Hey,” Olly offers up a very half-hearted complaint, and Neil turns with a grin.

“You said you weren’t using these again.”

“Well now I’m definitely not.”

“You never know. I’m sure I remember you sleeping in a shirt of mine after I accidentally got come on it,” Neil can’t resist pointing out, watching Olly’s cheeks flush.

“I didn’t realise it had come on it!”

“Whatever you say baby,” he gets back to his feet, rubs a thumb along the line of Olly’s cheekbone, enjoying smudging the remaining makeup even now. “Now, what was this about a negligee?”

“Packed it, it’s in my bag. Let me just get clothes on and we can go.”

He reaches for Neil’s hand, interlinks their fingers and opens the wardrobe door to a nearly empty room, except for a disgruntled looking Emre.

“You couldn’t even wait for the hotel?” he asks Olly, who looks even more debauched in the brighter light of the dressing room.

“Could’ve, but this was much more fun,” Olly says with a shrug, grin still wide and lazy like it always is after he’s just come. “And you didn’t have to hang around for the show, did you?”

Emre’s mouth opens and shuts for a moment, before he protests: “I was taking my face paint off!”

Olly moves over to where he has tracksuit bottoms and a jumper bunched up in the corner of the room. “Next time you should get someone else to help with that. It’s a lot more interesting.”

His gaze flits back to Neil, heavy-lidded, and Neil’s breath catches at the sight.

“Looks like the least successful makeup removal I’ve ever seen,” Emre points out, staring at Olly’s smudged lips.

“It was successful in other ways though,” Olly grins, voice laden with innuendo.

Neil groans, shakes his head and makes his way over to pick up Olly’s bag for him, slinging an arm around him once he’s pulled on the jumper.

“Come on you, you’ll scar him.”

“Thank you, Neil,” Emre says, though he’s smiling and waves a hand at the door. “Go, be gone, do whatever nasty things you always seem to have to do when other people are around.”

“Okay, okay, we’re going. Have a good night,” Olly says with a little salute and a wink, letting Neil steer him to the door.

As soon as they’re out the dressing room, Neil ups the pace, making Olly have to jog a little to catch up.

“Hey, what’s the rush?”

“You’ve got a tiny silk negligee back at the hotel and you’re asking me what’s the rush?” Neil pauses briefly, to give Olly an utterly bemused look.

Olly laughs then, bright and delighted, slips his hand back into Neil’s and tugs him along. “So, what are your feelings on shaved legs?”

“Oh god,” he groans, speeding up even more, intending to ignore Olly laughing louder now, but unable to stop the smile spreading on his face.

His boyfriend is a terrible, terrible tease, but in the very best way.


End file.
